Author's Note: hi, guys! It's been a while since I last posted a story, but I have inspiration again! I hope you enjoy this story! :) xx
The sun set less than an hour ago, but she had been cooking since before that. When the timer beeped, she replaced the chicken in the oven with the garlic bread. She set the timer for five minutes, hoping it would go off before the front door opened. He hated when he came home late and dinner wasn't ready.
She mixed some lettuce with sliced tomatoes, chopped carrots, sliced cucumbers, and red onions. The salad was meant to serve one because she knew he wouldn't eat any of it. Still, she put only half of the salad onto her plate, just in case this was the one night he wanted salad. The chances were next nothing, but she wasn't much of a risk taker. Why risk getting a beating when she could just leave him some salad?
The timer went off, causing her to jump. Most noises startled her nowadays. It didn't take much to scare her anymore. She lived in constant fear. She was always looking over her shoulder, and she often strained her ears to make sure she didn't miss any threatening sounds or potential warnings of his arrival. She turned off the timer. Looking at the bread in the oven, she decided another minute or so would do. Rather than set the timer again though, she simply watched the bread to make sure it cooked properly.
It wasn't more than a few seconds later that the sound of a key unlocking the front door rang through her ears. She jumped, her breath catching in her throat. As the door opened, she felt herself begin to shake. She hoped he came home in a good mood. She hoped he would hug her, not hit her. However, most of her hopes tended to be nothing more than an unrealistic dream.
"Hey, babe," she forced a smile, approaching the entrance of the house.
"Hey, Pam. Is dinner ready?" He asked, not showing much interest in her.
"Yeah. I j-just need to take out the g-garlic bread," Pam told him. He nodded.
"I'm starving," he whined.
"Well, there's a lot of chicken and garlic bread. There's also salad," Pam responded. Her voice had a slight tremor in it, but he didn't seem to notice it. That, or he didn't care. Probably a bit of both.
The two entered the kitchen. He immediately went to the refrigerator for a beer. Pam walked over to the oven, and fear overtook her when she looked at the garlic bread. In the two minutes she left to greet him, she burned the garlic bread. He was not going to be happy. They had more bread and seasoning. She could make more and have it ready in minutes, but that wouldn't matter to him.
Hesitantly, she opened the oven and took out the bread. She set it next to the stove and looked to see if there were any pieces of bread that hadn't been burned. To her dismay, every piece of bread had been burned. She bit her bottom lip, fearful of how he would choose to punish her for burning the food. Depending on his mood, it could be anywhere from screaming at her to shoving her against a wall to beating her.
She turned around and walked to the pantry to grab more bread. She hoped that maybe he wouldn't notice her making new garlic bread. Maybe he was on his way to being drunk and she had five extra minutes to correct her mistake before he even noticed. Maybe, however, was simply another word for hope, and she didn't have much hope.
"What are you doing?" he asked, confusion hinted in his tone.
"I um, I'm m-making m-more garlic bread," she whispered. He looked over at the tray of burnt bread before looking back at her. His eyes were full of rage, as they usually were whenever he looked at her.
"How stupid do you have to be to burn bread?!" He yelled at her, walking closer to her.
"Roy," she whispered, cowering back. He towered over her. He raised his hand and slapped her sharply across the face, the impact sending her to the ground. She let out a yelp of pain. She slowly sat up, using her elbows to support her. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"You're so stupid. Make some more, and try not to mess it up this time. Food costs money, and you're wasting it by burning it, dumbass," he spat. He gave her a hard kick to the ribs, causing her to whimper. When he exited the kitchen, she slowly stood up on her shaky legs and wiped away her tears.
Okay, relax. That could've gone worse. She thought to herself. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself before preparing some more garlic bread and placing it in the oven. Five minutes later, the bread was ready. She served a plate of food for each of them. Half of Roy's plate held chicken, while the other half held two pieces of garlic bread. Pam's plate consisted of a fourth of the amount of chicken that Roy had, half of the one serving of salad, and a piece of garlic bread. She set a glass of water next to her plate, and nothing for Roy since she was sure he still had his beer.
"Roy, dinner's ready!" Pam called. He entered the kitchen with an empty beer bottle. Rather than throwing it away, he set the bottle on the counter before grabbing a new one from the refrigerator. Pam cringed upon noticing his second bottle. She hated when he drank.
They ate dinner without saying a word. Pam was too afraid to say anything, which wasn't unusual for her when she was around Roy. He smacked on his dinner as he devoured the food on his plate. The only pausing he did in between bites was to take a gulp from his beer. Basic manners were not a familiar trait for him.
When they finished eating, Pam collected the dishes and set all of them in the sink before washing them one by one. Roy walked by her on his way to the refrigerator for another beer. He gave her a smack on the butt, causing her to slightly jump.
"I want sex," he stated, grabbing his third beer out of the refrigerator. She tensed up.
"I'm doing the dishes," she whispered, hoping that would prolong the time before she was forced to have sex. He liked it rough, and he always hurt her during sex.
"Stop what you're doing. I want sex," he repeated. She knew she shouldn't argue because that would only result in a beating. It was easier to do whatever he said. Still, the fear of having sex with him motivated her to continue washing the dishes.
"Pam, let's go," he said sternly. She was shaking with fear. Frustrated that she wasn't obeying him, Roy took a step closer to her. She flinched as he raised his hand.
"I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want!" She apologized, wondering why she was stupid enough to ever undermine his authority.
"That's a good girl," he smirked. He grabbed her forearm and lead her to the bedroom. He pulled off her blouse before taking off his own clothes. She was frozen. She never knew how to react when he raped her. She usually just stood there and let him undress her and push her onto the bed. He gladly did. Once her clothes had been removed, he shoved her onto the bed. He pressed his lips against hers, not caring that it was causing her pain. He pinned her down so she wouldn't struggle from the pain he chose to inflict on her. He forced himself inside of her. She let out a cry, and he slapped her.
"You know you like it," he growled.
He enjoyed the way she squirmed beneath him. Seeing her so frightened made him feel in control. He felt powerful. He loved the tears streaming down her face. He loved how no matter how much she struggled, he was stronger than her and could prevent her from escaping. He smirked, knowing that he had full control of her. The bruises and welts on her body were proof of that. She was powerless. She would do anything to please him. She was fearful of him, and he liked it.
When he was finished using her body, he rolled off of her and fell asleep. After laying on the bed in tears for a few minutes, she stood up from the bed and shakily made her way to the bathroom for a shower. As soon as she entered the bathroom, she shut the door and considered locking it. Roy didn't allow her to lock herself away from him. The fear of being punished prevented her from locking the bathroom door. He was asleep, but the fear of what he would do if he were to wake up was enough. She didn't like to take risks, no matter how much the odds were in her favor. She lived in fear of when he would harm her next.
She looked in the mirror to see a purplish bruise on her face where Roy had struck her twice in the same spot. Her rib cage had a bluish bruise where he kicked her on the kitchen floor. Of course, that bluish bruise wasn't the only one on her torso; it was just the latest one. At least the older ones were fading.
Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her body was slightly shaking. As she stared at the bruised woman in the mirror, she was hit with the awful reality that the bruised woman was her own reflection. She was no longer Pam Beesly, but rather, she was a shell of her.
She turned the shower on, giving it a minute to warm up before stepping in. The hot water felt good on her marred skin. The water from a shower was the only warmth Pam felt these days. She poured shampoo into her palm until it overflowed. Even then, she knew it wouldn't be enough. An entire bottle of shampoo and a whole bar of soap wouldn't be enough to make her feel clean. By now, she learned to accept that she would always be dirty.
When she finished washing herself, she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, already missing the warm water. The cool air hit her skin, bringing her back to her dark reality. She wrapped a towel around her body and stood there for a few seconds. After drying her hair and body, she put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. She exited the bathroom and made her way to the bed, where her fiancé was sleeping.
She climbed onto her side of the bed. The sound of Roy's snoring was almost a peaceful noise to hear because it meant he was asleep and couldn't harm her. She could've relaxed if she had wanted to, but her guard went up a few months ago and she refused to let it down. She laid there, her body tensed, until exhaustion won over. When she did fall asleep, she unknowingly grinded her teeth, for her stressful reality didn't ever leave her, even in her dreams.
Pam jumped awake at the sound of the alarm clock going off. She hopped out of bed and shut it off. Roy sat up and groaned. He got up and grabbed a set of clothes. Passing by Pam, he gave her a sharp smack on the ass as a good morning. He didn't seem to notice the way she jumped when he came into contact with her, not that he would've cared. He entered the bathroom, and a few seconds later, Pam heard the shower turn on. Roy showered quickly. He was out by the time Pam had made the bed and gotten dressed. When Roy exited the bathroom, Pam entered it.
She applied just enough make up to hide her bruise, the dark circles under her eyes, and the overall puffiness of her face. As a teenager, Pam wasn't too interested in make up. She would wear mascara and lip gloss, but rarely much more. Over the last few months, when Roy became a little careless about hitting her in more visible areas, Pam had become great at make up. For some, make up was a hobby done for enjoyment. For Pam, make up was a necessity done in order to hide what Roy did to her behind closed doors.
When she finished up in the bathroom, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Roy had already brewed some coffee and poured himself a cup. Pam used to think that when you saw someone you love, your stomach would get butterflies. Instead, her stomach twisted with knots of anxiety.
"It's about time. I'm starving," Roy said. As a little girl, this wasn't how she imagined her mornings with her future husband. She imagined they would hug every morning and cook breakfast together. Clearly, her childhood fantasies were nothing more than that.
"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"Two eggs and some bacon," Roy responded. She nodded.
"Get me a beer, will you?" Roy requested as Pam opened the refrigerator to grab two eggs. She tensed up.
"Roy, isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Pam asked, worried. His eyes darkened as he approached her. Her eyes widened with fear. She hadn't meant to upset him. Her fingers fumbled around as she reached into the refrigerator.
"I'm sorry!" She apologized, quickly grabbing a beer to hand him. When he held out his hand, she jumped back, anxiety overwhelming her. Unfortunately, when she jumped back, she lost her grip on the bottle, and it hit the ground. Glass flew everywhere.
"What the hell, Pam?!" He yelled. His face was red with anger.
"I-I'm s-sorry! I-I didn't-I didn't mean to!" She apologized, her body shaking.
He grabbed her arms tight enough to bruise, and she let out a whimper. He shoved her onto the ground. She landed on pieces of glass and the contents in the bottle. He unbuckled his belt, and Pam cowered back, trying to shield her face with her arms. He raised it and hit her as hard he could, ignoring her screams of pain.
"Clean this up!" He ordered after hitting her a few times. He put his belt back on as Pam shakily stood up. He grabbed another beer and exited the kitchen. Tears were running down her face as she grabbed a sponge and a towel. After cleaning the mess, she prepared breakfast. While he ate, she went to the bathroom to fix her make up and change clothes.
Within just the last twelve hours, she had been shoved, slapped, kicked, and whipped with a belt for burning food, not wanting to have sex, and dropping a beer bottle. Most people could see the cruelty of the situation. Had anyone known, they would've told Pam she needed to get out of that relationship. They would've told her she didn't deserve such abuse. However, Pam viewed the situation as being her fault. She was manipulated into believing that she deserved to be treated so horribly.
After reapplying her make up and changing her clothes, Pam made her way back downstairs. Roy had finished eating his breakfast and left his dishes on the table. Pam sighed as she walked over to the table, grabbed the dishes, and placed them in the sink.
"Ready to go?" Roy asked. Pam flinched at his voice, not noticing him enter the kitchen.
"Yeah," she mumbled. The two exited their house and headed to Roy's pick up.
Roy turned on the radio and blasted the music. Pam cringed at the noise. She hated loud sounds, though she should be used to Roy's loud music by now. As Roy pulled out of the driveway, Pam looked out the window and got lost in her own thoughts. Her mind could often be a dark place, keeping her trapped and reminding her of the cruelty she lived in. However, her mind could also be an escape. She had the freedom to imagine a better life, even if she knew it would never be a reality. At least for a few minutes, she could pretend she was safe and happy.
When the radio went off, Pam snapped out of her thoughts and back to her horrifying reality. They were in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot. The two got out of the truck and entered the building.
"See you later," Roy said, giving Pam a quick kiss on the lips.
"Okay," Pam responded, giving him a small smile. He gave her ass a hard pinch, causing her to wince a little. He loved demonstrating his ownership of her body.
"Be good," he warned her. He tried to make it seem sincere and sweet as there were people walking by, but she could hear the threat in his tone. Forcing a smile, she nodded. They split up, heading to their designated work places.
Roy wouldn't have to worry about Pam. She would never cheat on him. Even if she wanted to, she was far too paranoid that he was always watching her, waiting to see if she messed up, waiting to see what else he could punish her for. She wouldn't admit it, but she was afraid of him. She feared what he could do to her. She feared for her life. She was just trying to make it to the next day. She wasn't trying to live anymore. She was trying to survive.
Pam sat down at her desk and turned on her computer. Roy had to come in for work earlier than the desk job employees, so Pam was often one of the first to arrive at the office. She opened her email and began reading and responding to a few messages. As the clock approached eight a.m, her coworkers began entering the office, one or two at a time. Pam plastered a smile on her face, effectively hiding her pain, as she did everyday. No one suspected a thing.